


‘You are not alone.’

by Descaladumidera



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, I can't do h/c, I think this one falls in the h/c category, M/M, Percival is an understanding sweetheart, SO MUCH FLUFF, Theseus has a limp and a bad leg and it won't get better, and depressive behaviour, btw. this is the coffee shop!AU nobody asked for, but also angst, now with less coffee shop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 03:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12808392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Descaladumidera/pseuds/Descaladumidera
Summary: They greet each other every day, only a wave of hands, both of them lazily smoking their cigarettes in the warm morning sun. Until Percival thinks it would be a good idea to at least get to know the name of the man who has rented the flat above his coffee shop three months ago. And maybe ask him down for a coffee.





	‘You are not alone.’

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TycoonTwister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TycoonTwister/gifts).



> First of all, a big thank you to [@ladyoftheshrimp](https://ladyoftheshrimp.tumblr.com/) for beta reading this mini-monster and for the wonderful idea! Without you it wouldn’t be a coffee shop!AU—well, maybe it would be, but not with this good of an idea.
> 
> I promise you’ll vomit sugar cubes at the end. Well. Maybe.
> 
> Written for [@coffeesugarcream](http://coffeesugarcream.tumblr.com/).
> 
>  
> 
> _Prompt: Thesival + ‘Hey, don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself.’_

This wasn’t how he had expected it to be. Dishonourably discharged after he had risked his life to save a comrade, shattering his right leg in the process. It had been a suicide mission and his superiors hadn’t agreed to it, but he had done it anyway, self-sacrificing idiot that he was. He didn’t think it a mistake, not even now, with his bad leg propped up on a pillow, sitting in his new home, a flat above a coffee shop, because he couldn’t afford anything better.

Not that it was a bad neighbourhood or a bad flat at all. But he liked it quiet and living above a coffee shop, frequented daily by teenagers and businessmen and -women alike, didn’t make for a quiet day.

The funny thing—if considered funny at all—was, that he actually craved some human interaction. But … quiet, calm interaction. He didn’t have much of that since he came back, his parents dead, his brother somewhere in the world, crawling through jungles to research endangered species. He didn’t even know if his brother knew he was back—he had tried to call him, of course he had, but not knowing where his brother was at the moment made it hard. He often had no reception where he was, sometimes for weeks, and it would be a futile attempt to try and try and try to call him. Maybe he would try again in a week or two. But then he didn’t want to burden his brother with his problems, so maybe he wouldn’t call him at all.

Of course he could go out and meet new people instead of hanging around his lonely flat, listening to the chatter from the coffee shop through his open window. But he hated the pitiful looks he got, the apologetic glances whenever he struggled with his cane, his leg twisting the wrong way, sending agony through his body. He couldn’t stand it. It felt like he wasn’t capable of anything anymore. But just because his leg was crippled—and it was, he wasn’t going to lie to himself—didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of living on his own. He very well was, getting around well enough, even if it was straining and his leg hurt like hell at times. He lived on his own, he bought groceries, he climbed the stairs to his flat. He didn’t need help, didn’t need to burden anyone with his problems.

But it got lonely, being on his own every day. He had tried to get a job once his leg had been well enough for him to walk longer distances again. But no one wanted to hire an injured ex-soldier who had fallen into disgrace. And now he lived his life from the family fortune he and his brother had inherited. He tried to use it as sparsely as possible, knowing that his brother needed the money for his travels. And it would break both their hearts if he wasn’t able to do what he loved anymore.

 

* * *

 

Theseus got out of bed like he did every morning, grabbed his cane and hobbled more than he walked into the kitchen, after visiting the bathroom to take a piss. Like every morning he brewed himself some tea, before he snatched his cigarettes from the kitchen table and made his way over to the window that gave him a view over the main street and the front of the coffee shop beneath his flat.

It was his routine, sitting on the windowsill, window wide open, bad leg stretched out in front of him, propped up on a fluffy pillow. He would drink his tea lazily while smoking his cigarette and watching the busy people outside. It being summer, it was already bright and warm, the sun was up and shining even at half past seven in the morning, when everyone was walking or driving to work, only stopping to get a coffee to go from the coffee shop.

Theseus hadn’t been able to get completely rid of the need to be out and about at 5 a.m. sharp, but at least his body slowly got used to sleeping longer, only waking him around 7 a.m. now. It made him feel more exhausted than it should, his body not used to the sleeping hours he forced upon it after years of the same routine. But he knew he had to settle into a normal life again one day, so why not start early, when he had the time to do so?

He took a drag from his cigarette and flicked some ash into the tray next to him, exhaling the smoke slowly. It was numbing his brain and he didn’t even know why he had started smoking in the first place. It had begun even before he had joined the army, back in school. Maybe it had been peer pressure, but then he had never cared about what others thought cool. Maybe he had just wanted to do it and, thus, had done it. It didn’t matter, the habit had stuck to him to this day and he didn’t have the energy, nor the will to fight it.

Again he exhaled some smoke out of the window, looking down like every day. And, like every day, he saw the owner of the coffee shop outside, smoking a quick cigarette himself. Theseus had never gotten his name, hadn’t even introduced himself when he had moved in, always using the door leading to the backstreet rather than walking through the coffee shop, whenever he went outside. In the whole three months he had been here, they have never talked, never even seen each other outside of their morning routines.

The man looked up, right into Theseus’ eyes, and lifted a hand, a silent greeting. And Theseus reciprocated, giving a polite nod, and stumped out his cigarette to tend to his tea that was slowly cooling next to him. The greeting had been brief, like always.

It had started one week after Theseus had moved in and gotten into the routine of sitting on the windowsill, while drinking his tea and smoking his cigarette. In the beginning he had to wait around two hours, until he would see the other man, the two of them obviously having very different sleeping schedules. It made sense, in a way, as most people got their coffees on the way to work or school, so the coffee shop would open at 7 a.m. And if the owner didn’t live on the other side of London, he wouldn’t need to get up at 5 a.m. to be on schedule.

And Theseus was thinking far too much again. He shook his head and drank the rest of his tea, before he looked out of the window again.

The coffee shop owner was gone.

 

* * *

 

There was a knock on his door later that day, when he was lying lazily on his couch, some Netflix series playing in the background and a book propped up on his belly. This had become routine, too, keeping his mind occupied with books and watching TV—if he was quite honest with himself, it was boring after three months. Even though he had acquired a decent amount of books he could get easily lost in if he wanted to. Most of them he had bought in bulks from people who didn’t want them anymore. Fifty books for £10 was alright with him, even if half of them weren’t to his taste.

Now, he had just been lost in _Prince Caspian: The Return to Narnia_ , when he was so rudely interrupted. With a sigh he put the book aside, marking the page he was on, before he reached for his cane and stood up. He was only clad in his pajama bottoms, but he thought that whoever was interrupting him right now could deal with his appearance.

He didn’t expect to find the owner of the coffee shop standing in front of him, when he opened the door, looking as surprised as Theseus felt. The man was smaller than Theseus, but his body was built broader and that made him look quite tall and authoritative. Now that he couldn’t see him just from afar, Theseus noticed that he was rather handsome—older than himself, for sure, but still handsome. Dark hair cut short with an undercut, the sides already going grey, a slight shadow around his chin. Well, maybe he was around his forties, but—damn!—he was attractive.

Suddenly Theseus felt rather inadequate, standing there, only in his pajama bottoms, not having bothered to even shower or shave, his hair a mess. And he was far too aware of the scars littering his body, especially the upper half that was currently naked and free for the man in front of him to inspect. And inspect he did, Theseus could see the eyes roaming over him—warm, brown, intelligent eyes that flicked up to his blue ones.

‘Hello,’ the man said and his mouth curved into a gentle smile. His voice was deep and pleasant, like warm honey running down his throat. It made Theseus shiver.

‘Hello,’ he greeted back, his own voice hoarse and as unattractive as his whole appearance. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes, now staring at the ground. He could feel a traitorous blush creeping up his body, painting him in an unflattering red that clashed violently with his hair and freckles. ‘How can I help you?’

The man had the audacity to chuckle and then—hold out his hand for Theseus to shake. ‘Maybe I should introduce myself first,’ he said with this honey-voice, and now Theseus heard that he had an accent. If he had to place a bet, he would take that the man had grown up in New York. ‘I’m Percival Graves and—as you surely know—I own the coffee shop under your apartment.’

Theseus took the offered hand and shook it, his grip more loose than anything. He didn’t believe in grabbing a hand as hard as possible, thought it quite silly to show someone’s strength like that. Looking up again, he saw that Percival’s smile hadn’t wavered and was still present, his posture all relaxed, his hip even resting against the wall next to the door. He was obviously waiting for something.

‘Oh!’ _Yes, right. He is waiting for me to introduce my sorry self. God, I really need to go out again_ , Theseus thought and raked a hand through his mussy hair, Percival’s eyes following the motion. ‘I’m Theseus. Uhm … Theseus Scamander.’

‘So, Theseus. Uhm … Theseus Scamander,’ Percival began and Theseus had to roll his eyes and to suppress a smile at the obviously friendly teasing. Percival grinned. ‘I noticed that you have been living here quite some time now, but we never introduced ourselves or even talked to each other. There are only so many times I can watch someone smoking, sitting at their window, and greet them, without talking to them at least once.’

Well, he had a point and Theseus shrugged in agreement, again not meeting Percival’s eyes. He needed to get rid of this habit as soon as possible—maybe he had more in common with his brother than everyone thought, as Newt did this quite often himself, never meeting anyone’s eyes for too long. ‘Well, you would live in blissful ignorance of the question of whether they are an arse or not. Because, what good will it do you if you got to know me now, only to find out that I’m the biggest twat around?’

Percival laughed at that and Theseus smiled. He really didn’t think himself the friendliest person, but at least not an arse either. ‘Then I would just avoid you. Wasn’t that hard until now,’ he said with a wink and Theseus could see him again checking him out, his eyes lingering on a particularly nasty scar that trailed from his right shoulder down to his left hip. Suddenly he was more than self-conscious and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

He shifted from one foot to the other, licking his lips. Right now Theseus wanted nothing more than to close the door in Percival’s face and never think about this encounter again—maybe put on a shirt too, so he could hide his atrocious scars. But his manners kept him from doing so and instead he asked again, ‘How can I help you?’ He didn’t want to believe that Percival only came to introduce himself and make some small talk. If he had wanted to do that, he would have come when Theseus had moved in.

No, Percival wanted something. They all did. Always.

‘Actually I wanted to ask you if you wanted to come down for a coffee—or tea. Cocoa? Whatever you prefer. It would really be nice if I got to know you.’ He was still smiling. And somehow that put Theseus at ease and he nodded.

‘I would like that.’ It wouldn’t hurt to have someone close by that he could talk to. Maybe someone he would be able to call a friend in time. It sounded too good to be true and Theseus wondered if he would fuck up and drive Percival away somehow. But the man seemed nice and forgiving enough to ignore Theseus’ appearance and his lack of manners right now.

Percival nodded as well—and grinned. ‘Well, I will ask you to at least put on a shirt or something. I mean I have enough college students coming in, half asleep and still in their pajamas, without even having shoes on their feet. But I draw the line at being bare chested. It’s still my lunch break, but … hygiene, you know?’

‘Is a crop top okay?’ Theseus surprised himself by asking jokingly—and by the way Percival’s eyebrows shot up, nearly touching the line of his neatly styled hair, he wasn’t the only surprised one. But it felt natural, as if they had always bantered like this, without a care in the world. And again Theseus had this craving inside of him, this craving of normal, human interaction. He needed a friend so badly.

Percival laughed and his eyes drifted to Theseus’ waist, making a slight blush appear on his face. ‘I most certainly wouldn’t mind,’ he said and Theseus wondered briefly if the man was flirting with him—actually, he wouldn’t mind. Rolling his eyes, he discarded the idea and gestured for Percival to wait a minute while he got dressed.

True to his word he stepped out of his flat a minute later, having only put on the top to his pajama bottoms. It was a tee-shirt with a roaring lion’s head, courtesy of his brother, who had gifted him this very mature pajama before Theseus had joined the army. There hadn’t been a night when he hadn’t worn it, even if it was only to keep himself sane and to have something from home with him.

Percival looked at him, eyes glinting with mirth as he eyed the lion and Theseus could feel heat creeping up his face. He averted his eyes and leaned heavier on his cane while he closed the door behind him and made for the stairs, not giving his new acquaintance a chance to comment on his clothes. Percival followed him and Theseus could swear he could hear a quiet chuckle from the other man, making him throw a look over his shoulder and lift an eyebrow. Percival just widened his eyes in mock innocence and bit his lip—probably to keep himself from bursting out laughing. Theseus was tempted to flip him off.

Walking down the stairs was always an adventure, but one that Theseus has gotten used to over the past three months. It was wobbly and he needed to grab onto the handrail hard, always be careful as to where to place his cane, so he wouldn’t stumble. For outsiders it had to look like he needed help—or, even better, a lift. And apparently Percival got the same vibes as he made to grab Theseus’ elbow to steady him in his walk.

Theseus flinched violently at the unsuspected touch, his heart hammering loudly in his chest, his breath hitching in his throat. With one fluid movement he turned around, about to give Percival a piece of his mind, about to tell him that he was perfectly able to walk on his own, but he twisted his bad leg in the process. He stumbled, losing his footing and for an agonisingly long moment he thought he would fall, his heart jumping into his throat, his whole body growing tense, eyes widening in shock. He couldn’t even cry out in pain, his leg throbbing like someone struck it with a sledgehammer, too focused on the fact that he was falling and that there was nothing to keep it from happening.

Except for Percival.

His hand shot towards Theseus so fast that he couldn’t comprehend the situation in that mere second, before Percival got ahold of him and kept him from falling. Theseus’ heart was still beating fast in his chest, adrenaline shooting through his veins, making him hyper aware of everything, making him tremble and nearly shake apart, while Percival kept holding onto him, steadying him on the steps, until he was sure that Theseus wouldn’t slip again.

Gradually he calmed down, his breathing getting slower, the trembling subsiding to something that was barely noticeable. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, breathing in and out evenly, slowing down his heart rate.

When he was finally calm again, he turned around slowly, careful to not slip again. He needed to get down the stairs, needed to get his cane back that had fallen when he had lost his footing. But Percival’s grab tightened, his hand not letting go of Theseus’ arm. ‘Hey, don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself.’

Theseus wanted nothing more than to punch Percival in that very moment.

There were emotions swirling in his chest like a molotov cocktail, ready to explode. The hot and searing anger that nobody seemed to deem him capable to live on his own anymore, followed by the pain of the crushing realisation that he probably _wasn’t_ capable to live on his own anymore. That he was just a broken soldier, discarded and forgotten, living alone and without friends or family—not even his brother knew where to find him.

And now the only person he really wanted to talk to, the only person who hadn’t looked at him with pity in his eyes from the moment they finally met properly, now looked at him like everyone else. Like he was something fragile, something that was in need of fixing. A project. Nothing more.

_Fuck!_ Theseus thought and battled the tears that were threatening to spill once he let got of his self-control. He raked a shaking hand through his unkempt hair, tousling it even more while trying to ground himself. A deep breath. Another. _Stop the bloody trembling!_

‘Theseus?’

‘Did I allow you to call me by my first name?’ Theseus bit out and closed his eyes, willing down the urge to lash out. Percival didn’t know. How could he? He didn’t know how it felt, didn’t know what that simple, well meaning sentence did to Theseus.

There was a hand on his shoulder and this time Theseus didn’t flinch, gritting his teeth against shaking that unwanted touch off. And somehow—somehow it was comforting to feel the squeeze of warm fingers, the grounding knowledge that there was someone who wanted to help him. Even if this help wasn’t wanted.

At least that was what Theseus had told himself for months. That he didn’t need help. From anyone. That he was better off on his own. That he didn’t want to _burden_ anyone with his insecurities and problems. That he was afraid of people leaving him, because he was too much of a hassle.

Another squeeze and Theseus opened his eyes, only to stare up into warm brown ones, laced with understanding. Percival was standing a step higher than Theseus, looking at him patiently. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said and let go of Theseus’ shoulder, cold taking the place of the large hand and Theseus already missed the weight, feeling off balance, craving the touch.

Jesus. When had been the last time he had been touched like this? Not a graze of fingers when he paid for his groceries, but a wanted, lingering touch that showed him that someone cared? He had half a mind to ask Percival to put his hand back there, but he bit his tongue, knowing it would be odd to ask something like this.

‘Do you … still want to get coffee?’ Percival’s voice was careful as to not startle Theseus. He hated it. He hated that everyone walked on eggshells around him, especially people who didn’t know him. Which would be everyone he had met in the last three months. They thought him fragile, someone to handle with care, someone who would break the moment anyone said the wrong thing. He loathed it.

But weren’t they right? Didn’t he just lose it, because Percival said a simple thing that any caring person would say?

‘Theseus? Or … uhm … Mr Scamander?’ Percival probed—and again so very carefully, voice quiet, like talking to a wild, easily spooked animal.

Theseus sighed. ‘Theseus is fine. I’m … I’m sorry I lashed out,’ he said and rubbed his free hand over his face, his other clutching the handrail, his cane still out of reach. Another sigh. ‘I would still like to drink something with you … If you’ll still have me, that is.’

And there it was again. That smile. ‘Of course I will.’

Why did he have to be so nice? Theseus wanted to cry. He didn’t know how someone could think he deserved so much kindness. Time to give something back. ‘I … I twisted my leg—hurts like a bitch to be honest—and I can hardly walk without my cane when my leg isn’t acting up. So … I … I think I need some help?’ He said, unsure of how to convey that he trusted Percival enough to help him.

But Percival seemed to understand. Gently he hooked his arm around Theseus’ waist and Theseus placed his arm over Percival’s shoulder, leaning against him. Percival didn’t seem to be fazed by Theseus’ weight on him, helping him hobble down the stairs until they reached the cane.

Theseus accepted it with a grateful nod as soon as Percival pushed it in his hand. His leg was still hurting and he knew he should rub some of the salve on to it, that he had received from the hospital once he had been discharged. But not now. Now he had something akin to a ‘date’ with the handsome man standing next to him and with all the kindness Percival had bestowed upon him, he didn’t want to miss it for the world.

They made their way further down the stairs, Percival always mindful to adjust his pace to Theseus’ without commenting on it once. It almost felt natural and Theseus let out a soft sigh, glad that Percival seemed to be an understanding kind of person.

It was a relief when Theseus could finally sit down, throwing a thankful smile at Percival, when the man brought over a chair and a cushion and helped Theseus to place his leg on it. The pain immediately dwindled and as embarrassing as it was, it was good that Percival was so thoughtful of Theseus’ injury. It made him feel a bit helpless, but that was just because he thought himself useless, not because Percival made him ever feel that way. He just brought over the chair and the cushion and let Theseus himself prop up his leg, only adjusting the chair once, because Theseus asked him to. This was how it should be with anyone, Theseus noted. Nobody should coddle him like they always tended to do.

‘What would you like to have?’ Percival called from behind the counter and Theseus looked up, frowning at his leg that ached silently in its new position.

‘Tea would be wonderful, thank you.’

Percival chuckled and shook his head. ‘I will never get you Brits and your love for this dishwater.’

Affronted Theseus jeered back, ‘At least we don’t drink toilet water—mainly what you would call “coffee.”’ It was quite refreshing to get lost in a banter like this and over time Theseus would learn that they clearly had different tastes when it came to hot beverages. Percival would never back down from his opinion that coffee was the greatest gift to mankind since sliced bread and Theseus would always counter with why tea was the best thing to ever happen to every cultured man.

Percival came back with two, steaming mugs on a tray, sugar, milk and honey accompanying them. He set the tray down on the table, but before taking a seat, he took something out of his pocket and turned towards Theseus’ leg. Theseus immediately tensed, not sure what to think of Percival’s attention, but relaxed as soon as he saw what the man held in his hands.

‘Geez, thank you! That will help a lot,’ he said without thinking and directed a bright smile towards Percival, who gently smiled back, the corners of his lips barely lifting. But his eyes shone, making his smile sincere.

‘It’s my fault that you are in pain—the least I can do is help keep the damage to a minimum. And heat should help to prevent the muscles from stiffening,’ Percival responded and carefully lifted Theseus’ leg. It stung and Theseus let out a quiet hiss at the sensation, shutting his eyes to keep himself calm. It had obviously been more than just a little twist that would be better by tomorrow. But Percival did his best to not irritate the injury any more, while he placed the heat packs, wrapped in various towels, on different areas of Theseus’ leg. The pain abated slowly and Theseus let out a pleased groan, tipping his head back, until the sensation faded.

‘Thank you,’ he said again, eyes still closed, head still in his neck, body relaxed in the booth he was occupying. He stayed like that for a while, both of them quiet, until Theseus cracked one eye open and peered at Percival. ‘Pray tell, why do you keep heat packs in your coffee shop?’ The question just stumbled out without Theseus actually giving it much thought. It was just odd to him that someone would store heat packs in a coffee shop.

Percival had the audacity to laugh at him and Theseus frowned, now opening his other eye, too, and leaning forwards, his arms braced on the table, hands closing around the slightly cooled down mug in front of him. He was about to open his mouth to tell him to shut up, but Percival beat him to it. ‘I have severe back pain. Usually I keep them in a belt and put it around my waist. They keep warm for about eight hours and it helps a great deal,’ Percival explained softly and looked at Theseus under his long lashes.

That actually made sense and Theseus nodded thoughtfully. ‘Well, thank you for giving them up for me,’ he said eventually and finally took his first sip of the tea in his hands. To his surprise it actually tasted _good_. He said as much, ‘Wouldn’t have thought that this tea would be drinkable.’ Okay, he acknowledged it more or less—it was enough in his opinion.

‘My, thank you for your great praise,’ Percival mocked and emptied half his coffee in one swig, but the grin stayed on his face, painting his words softer. It made Theseus feel at ease. Percival’s whole _being_ made him feel at ease. He hadn’t felt so relaxed in ages. ‘Now, tell me about you.’ Maybe not so relaxed anymore.

‘What’s there to tell?’ It was more a mumble than anything else and Theseus did his best to stare a hole into his mug, the tea slowly cooling. His fingers drummed on the table, blunt nails scratching over the surface. It was a nervous habit, but one that gave his hands something to do, lest he did something else—for example, accidentally shattering his mug. Not that he intended to do it, but the urge was there.

Percival sighed and Theseus threw him a quick look before he averted his eyes again, tongue wetting his lips. ‘If you don’t want to, you don’t need to. Or—maybe I should start.’

He didn’t wait for Theseus’ approval and that made the man slightly more likeable than he already was.

Theseus learned that Percival had really grown up in New York, but his ancestors from his mother’s side of the family came from Ireland. He had worked as a detective in New York, until a nasty case made him quit—he didn’t tell Theseus what had happened, but Theseus could see that it must have been bad. Expressive, warm, brown eyes dulled and a melancholy that Theseus only knew just too well overtook Percival for a few minutes, until he caught himself again. A smile forced its way onto his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes, still pained.

Theseus wanted to reach out, wanted to cup Percival’s hands in his own, warming them, reassuring him that he wasn’t alone. But he didn’t do it, knowing he himself wouldn’t want it, wouldn’t want such a gesture that showed how pitiful he was. And so he waited for Percival to continue.

He had left his friends in New York to tend to matters and travelled to Ireland to learn about his heritage. But Ireland hadn’t been able to keep him and so he had ended up in London.

‘I needed a job, but it needed to be something that was calmer than being a detective. I’ve had my fair share of adventure and I’m getting old. And I thought—hey, why not open up a coffee shop! At least I know how to brew good coffee and maybe I could convert some Brits to the better beverage.’ He ended his tale with a wink, making Theseus snort, the thought of throwing an ‘As if!’ at Percival gnawing heavily at his mind. In the end he didn’t, but the urge was there.

Instead he asked, ‘Don’t you regret leaving everything behind?’ It couldn’t have been easy to just leave his old life and start anew, all alone, without having anything to hold onto.

Percival looked down, eyes now fixed on his mug, hands holding it tight. ‘Sometimes I do. When I miss my friends and coworkers. Other times I’m glad I left everything behind—this one case … It took everything from me. I didn’t want to live this life anymore, I needed a new start, a new life, a new _everything_.’

Theseus nodded in understanding. It was about the same thing he was going through himself at the moment, but for him it wasn’t by choice. He would have served longer if he had been able to, but he wasn’t.

Cautiously he took another sip of his tea, looking at Percival over the rim of his mug—that was coloured an atrocious mint green to Theseus’ chagrin. ‘I get you.’

There was a beat of silence. Then, ‘You do?’ Percival sounded genuinely surprised. Maybe he didn’t believe him—Theseus wouldn’t hold it against him. If anyone had told him the same, he wouldn’t believe them either.

‘I do,’ Theseus responded and the smallest of smiles crept onto his face. He chuckled, a deep, quiet thing, a bit bitter around the edges. Because, why would Percival believe him? Well, if he told him some things … It would only be fair, wouldn’t it? ‘I’m going through the same thing. Well, sort of.’

Percival lifted one of his impressive eyebrows—and impressive they were, Theseus noted. Thick and expressive. Theseus bet, if Percival frowned, everyone would be scared shitless, because the look on his face would be so dark.

‘I … was dishonourably discharged—from the army. I served. Did some stupid things, shattered my leg, and they kicked me out, because I wasn’t of use anymore. And because I disobeyed direct orders … well, they weren’t too pleased.’ He shrugged in an attempt to make it sound like he didn’t care much. But the look on Percival’s face told him that he failed. He cared _too fucking much_. It was eating him up, keeping him up at night, making him smoke a pack of cigarettes a day, making him stuff his body with unhealthy food, making him binge watch series for hours, days on end. It was slowly killing him and he couldn’t stop it.

He didn’t realise that he was trembling, until Percival’s hands cupped his own, rubbing soothing circles on his skin—and gradually he calmed down. _Breathe_ , he told himself and closed his eyes. _Breathe._

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered and didn’t dare look Percival in the eye.

‘Don’t be.’ The answer was soft, with an understanding undertone that made Theseus want to vomit. ‘If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. You don’t need to. But … maybe it will help.’

Theseus couldn’t deny the truth behind the words—he felt a bit lighter after telling someone. And Percival _understood_. Theseus craved understanding so much that he didn’t even realise it earlier, his chest suddenly loose, air getting easier into his lungs. So he soldiered on, taking a deep breath to steel himself, ‘You see, I’m in a … quite similar situation as you. With starting anew, I mean. Only that I didn’t choose to do it, but was forced into it.’

‘You would have stayed in the army?’ Surprise laced Percival’s voice and Theseus smiled.

‘It’s some kind of a family tradition. My father was in the army, my grandfather was and so on. So, somehow, I had to do it, too, you know? I know it’s silly,’ he added hastily upon seeing Percival opening his mouth. Their hands were still joined on the tabletop and it gave Theseus the strength to keep going. ‘I didn’t _really_ have a choice. I mean, I could have said I wanted to study and work some office job or anything and nobody would have objected—they would have fussed and tried to talk me into it, but in the end they wouldn’t have forced me. But then they would have focused on my brother and he has always been the odd one who doesn’t really fit into the family, with different interests and too much of an eccentric character. I didn’t want them to force change upon him.’

His hands were clutching Percival’s now and he closed his eyes briefly. They would have ruined his precious baby brother if he hadn’t taken the position they wanted him to have. Theseus had had to do it. Or Newt would have been heartbroken. ‘My brother means everything to me. I love him so much—he deserves to have a happy life with no one disturbing him and forcing stupid social standards upon him.’

There was silence once Theseus stopped talking and he was grateful that Percival gave him the time to adjust. Gentle, calloused thumbs were rubbing circles on his skin, grounding him and he had the urge to take Percival’s hands to his mouth and kiss them. It would be such a cliché, but nobody was here to witness it, and Theseus had half a mind to go through with it.

But then Percival opened his mouth and asked, ‘What’s your brother’s name? What does he do? What is he like?’

Theseus knew what Percival was trying to do and he relaxed again. Talking about his brother always made him feel at ease—he was so proud of him. ‘His name is Newt—Newton, but everyone calls him Newt. Well, except for our parents and me. I was brought up to call him by his full name and it stuck somehow. Luckily he doesn’t mind.’

He felt so light, so utterly calm, his hands now moving with Percival’s, a small smile on his lips. He lapsed into stories about how Newt was researching endangered animals all around the world, writing a book to educate mankind about them. He told Percival about the brilliance of his little baby brother, about how clever and good he was. He told him stories about their childhood and how he had always wanted to protect Newt, despite knowing that his brother could very well take care of himself.

And Percival laughed and smiled and it was the most beautiful thing Theseus has seen in ages. The other man was obviously enamoured with his stories, their drinks forgotten, while they kept talking and talking and talking.

They fell into companionable silence after Theseus had finished a story about him and Newt trying to buy some alcohol, while Theseus had still been sixteen, which had ended in two very embarrassed teenagers standing in front of two very amused police officers. ‘I was just too lanky, no muscles or anything, pimples littering my boyish face—mother always called it boyish, don’t laugh!—and I honestly thought they’d think me eighteen. It was a disaster,’ he ended and Percival snorted.

‘I can hardly imagine that you looked anything but manly once,’ Percival said with a wink and Theseus felt himself blush. Not for the first time that day he had the impression that Percival was flirting with him, but he chose to ignore it for now.

‘Oh, but it’s true. Too long limbs, too tall, my body looked like a stick-figure come to life.’ Luckily that had fixed itself when he had become older. He knew that people had thought him quite attractive when he had been seventeen or eighteen, especially a lot of girls that had asked him out back then.

‘Fine, I will believe you,’ Percival replied and lounged back in his chair. He looked so utterly comfortable and at home here, it made Theseus’ heart ache. He wanted to feel at home somewhere, too. Percival’s voice kept him from drifting away too much, asking, ‘Did you call him, after you have been discharged? Your brother, I mean. It seems like you two are awfully close and I thought …’ He trailed off, obviously having sensed Theseus’ sudden tenseness.

‘I,’ Theseus started and cleared his throat, before attempting to speak again. The question had made his throat constrict with an ache that he had buried weeks ago. ‘I tried. In the beginning. But he has no reception most of the time and it’s a pain in the arse to be able to call him. I didn’t get him to answer his phone once, so in the end … I just … kind of gave up? I didn’t try again.’ If he was spilling the beans, he could very well spill all of them. Percival was patiently listening and had shown to be understanding and sympathetic towards Theseus’ situation. ‘I don’t want to burden him with my problems.’

Suddenly Percival sat up straight, a serious expression entering his face, and Theseus had a hard time not to avert his eyes. He licked his lips nervously and waited for the explosion that would surely come. But Percival’s voice was soft and tender—and somehow vulnerable, when he spoke. ‘I’m pretty sure he wants to be burdened with them.’

‘No, he—’

‘Theseus,’ Percival interrupted, his voice stern, a hand held up to stop Theseus from talking. ‘From what you told me, he cares a great deal about you. Do you think it fair of you to leave him in the dark for so long? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t meddle with your personal stuff, but I can see that you are hurting. So, please be honest with me: Would you feel better, if you talked to him?’

Theseus pressed his lips together until they were a thin, white line, to keep them from trembling. It hit too close to the truth. Theseus knew Percival was right. But still. It made his heart ache and his whole body feel cold. The only thing that felt remotely warm were the tears stinging in his eyes, threatening to fall and embarrass him even more.

‘Theseus? I’m sorry. Please talk to me,’ Percival prompted, worry behind his words, and he held his hands out. Without a further thought Theseus held onto them—and let the tears fall.

He didn’t remember the last time he had had a good cry. He didn’t remember the last time he had cried at all. But it felt refreshing, like he could let go of everything, and it spilled from his lips, too, shaking and laced with sobs, ‘I—I m—miss him so fu—fucking much.’ His words were barely audible under the heavy tears and sobs, but it felt so liberating to finally say it out loud. He missed his brother. He missed him, he missed him, he missed him.

He didn’t notice Percival slipping into the booth next to him, until he felt a comforting hand on his neck, squeezing gently. ‘C’mere,’ Percival said quietly and tugged Theseus’ forehead against his own. ‘Look at me. Breathe with me.’

Theseus did his best to do as he was told, his breath a stuttering mess, his eyes red, his face blotchy from crying. He hated himself so much in this very moment that he wouldn’t been able to put it into words, even if he had tried. But Percival didn’t judge, just helped him breathing through it, until he calmed down, his eyes fluttering shut. Percival’s warmth seeped into his body, made his tense muscles relax and made him slump against the other man. An arm was wrapped around him and tugged him against a steady chest, rising evenly, giving him something to focus on.

Theseus hadn’t realised how many emotions he had bottled up in the last three months, but the worst of them broke through now, making him clutch at Percival, his bad leg forgotten, the pain barely noticeable. And Percival held him, shushed him gently, patiently.

‘I just feel so alone,’ Theseus croaked out, a shiver running down his spine, when Percival raked his fingers through his hair and down his neck. It was humiliating in a way only one could feel when they spilled their worst secret to a stranger on the street. But somehow … somehow with Percival—it felt … okay. Theseus knew he would be okay, with Percival holding him, rocking him through his sorrow, keeping him _safe_.

‘You are not alone.’

 

* * *

 

They lapsed into a routine after this. Theseus would sit on his couch and read, until Percival knocked on his door, taking him down for coffee and tea. Percival would help him down the stairs and Theseus would let him, being happy to have someone he could trust. It felt good. Theseus still wore his pajamas whenever they had their lunch meetings, but Percival never complained. It was an amicable arrangement and both men were happy with how things turned out.

Percival never brought up Theseus’ breakdown either, but he was there for him and Theseus couldn’t even begin to describe how grateful he was. Their friendship blossomed slowly, despite it having begun with an emotional outburst on Theseus’ part.

It was four months later when Theseus came down the stairs on his own for the first time, Percival having just closed the coffee shop for his lunch break. And he didn’t wear his pajama but a nice, clean shirt and some decent slacks. Percival stared at him with wide eyes, before a heavy smile settled on his features and he tugged Theseus in a warm embrace, mindful of his bad leg. And Theseus reciprocated, feeling lighter than ever, feeling like he had accomplished something.

It was then that Percival offered him a job, having just waited for Theseus to get better, to get his life together. It left Theseus dumbfounded and smiling like a loon. ‘Yes, I would like that,’ he breathed. And then, ‘Let me take you out for dinner.’

He was surprised by his own boldness, but didn’t regret it one bit—especially not when Percival agreed. Theseus thought it might be a date. He wouldn’t tell Percival.

It was two months later when he finally called Newt and invited him over for Christmas. He had fought with himself for months, still saw himself as a burden, as someone not worth having around. But Percival had talked sense into him, had made him see that calling Newt would be good for him—good for both of them. ‘Newt surely misses you as much as you miss him.’

And that had settled it.

Having his brother around and happy and worrying about him made him feel so alive, even though he hated it when Newt worried. Newt shouldn’t worry about anything, especially not _him_. But for now Theseus was just happy to be able to hug his baby brother again, to listen to his stories and to have him all to himself.

Newt would tell him about his adventures, about all the animals he had seen and studied, showed him pictures and extracts from his book. And Theseus would listen and smile and be grateful for Newt taking his mind off of things that weren’t as happy.

It was bittersweet when they had to say goodbye again, but Percival was there to hold his hand and Newt was smiling happily, promising to visit again soon.

It was a year later when Percival invited him to his home for Christmas Eve. Theseus, of course, agreed to come. It would be nice to spend Christmas with Percival since Newt couldn’t come this year. They cooked together, ate a nice meal, listened to Christmas songs on the radio—did everything good friends should do if they spent Christmas together.

It was that Christmas when they sat together on Percival’s couch, _Dinner for One_ playing on the TV, Theseus’ feet in Percival’s lap, both of them clutching a mug of eggnog, that Percival would lean over and kiss him for the first time.

Theseus eyes widened in surprise, his heart beating in his throat, a faint blush creeping up his neck, colouring his cheeks pink, making them clash with his neatly styled hair and the freckles adorning his face. Percival would never fail to surprise him, not even with that coy smile on his face and the shy question on his lips, if he may kiss Theseus again.

It was tender and sweet and somehow they ended up lying on the couch, limbs entangled with each other, Percival’s mouth attached to Theseus’ neck, eliciting soft gasps. Theseus’ eyes fluttered shut, while Percival tended to his neck, his throat, kissing his way up Theseus’ jaw, only to lock their lips together. The sweet taste of eggnog lay heavy on Theseus’ tongue when Percival licked into his mouth, pinning him down with his weight, making him pliant under his touch and gentle ministrations.

It was that moment when Percival asked him if he wanted to co-own the coffee shop with him.

It didn’t even take a second for Theseus to say yes.

He was better. He felt better. He would keep getting better. And all of this thanks to someone who decided that he couldn’t stand greeting a stranger every day without knowing his name.

 


End file.
